


Painted Ceiling

by fireandthethud



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:36:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireandthethud/pseuds/fireandthethud
Summary: "No words were said, but he did not need words to show him her emotions, for he could taste them on her tongue and feel them on her skin - pain and strength, sadness and happiness, sorrow and guilt, but most of all, love."Jane is hit with childhood trauma & memories of an old flame in the middle of the night and Loki is there to comfort her. Lokane AU. Set post "Thor: The Dark World".





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-post of an old Lokane fanfic I wrote on fanfiction.net 4 years ago under the pseudonym "krstic". 
> 
> Decided I might as well post it here since I still am proud of it and want to get back into writing Lokane/Thor fanfiction. Let me know what you thought!

Two bodies lay fast asleep under silver bed sheets during a rainy-night in London, England.

The apartment they lived in was small, but then again so was the price they paid for it every month. It had a bedroom with enough space for the twin-size bed, the wardrobe, the nightstand and the full-length mirror. It had a washroom with space for the toilet, the old sink, the mirror and the shower. There was a kitchenette with a stove, counter top space, sink and refrigerator and a living room area with a small couch and old television set and several bookshelves, but apart from that, nothing made that apartment special.

Except for the ceiling in their bedroom.

The first night she had told him she loved him he had painted the ceiling space above their bed to resemble the night sky in Asgard. In his eyes it was not perfect, but she thought it was beautiful. It represented a place he had told her about countless times, a place she had never seen in person, but had always wanted to since she was little.

She was glowing and happy for weeks after he painted the ceiling, but her happiness had died off when the wedding invitations arrived. Volstagg had come all the way from Asgard and invited them, though she did not want to go, and he did not particularly object with her decision.

His brother and Sif were getting married.

He wanted to be able to say that he was happy for them, but he could not.

Even though he no longer processed any magic (Odin had stolen that from him for safety reasons), Sif still did not trust him. From what he had analyzed about her, he realized that she was secretly hoping they did _not_ come. While his brother on the other hand had _wanted_ them to show, he knew that he could not bring himself to attend. Not after what his brother had done to her.

He had made her so happy but then he had left her. The effect had left her emotional unstable, mainly due to the fact that he had been keeping her together when she could not do it herself, and the sudden transition was too much. When she cried, he held her, so when Volstagg had left, she had sobbed into his shoulder.

Now, it had been two months since Thor and Sif's wedding, and she was back into her depressed state. That was the state she had been in, when he had found her, shortly after his arrival on Midgard.

That time period, had consisted of explosive arguments between them (for she had difficulty believing that he was trying to change for the better) and odd night's spent speaking with Darcy Lewis on the phone about what to do to have her trust him. Darcy gave him advice and he had used it, thanking her for it afterwards. His change in attitude had captivated her, while her intelligence had captivated him.

The clock in the living room struck five in the morning, and he began to slowly wake, his dream already forgotten.

She shifted slightly, the last fragments of her nightmare still in her head.

_"… The car was driving across the icy road, and from there, it began driving on a bridge. A cold, deep river flowed below them and it had begun to snow…"_

She slipped out of bed, hearing him groan quietly behind her. Her bare feet padded lightly against the wood floor, as she made her way to the minuscule bathroom. Her hands felt against the wall, searching for the light switch, and after a while, she found it.

_"… Her parents were chatting in the front seat, while she was drifting off asleep in the back. There was a sudden lurch and she heard her mother scream and her father slam the brakes…"_

She closed the bathroom door, her eyes stung from the sudden bright light and her fingers trembled and shook, as she pulled off her shirt and underwear, letting them drop in a pile on the floor.

_"… The vehicle had crashed against the railing of the bridge and was sent falling into the frigid waters of the river. Her screams filled the air as they fell…"_

She stepped into the shower and closed the shower curtains behind her.

_"… There was a cut on her lip and it was the coldest she had ever felt. Her vision was blurred by the water and all she heard were gasps – her parents fighting to breath, fighting to survive…"_

The sound of raindrops against the bedroom window mixed with the sound of the shower running woke him. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and ran a hand through his jet-black hair before closing his eyes, resting.

The water that pelted her back was scalding hot. It made red imprints where it touched her exposed skin, though she did not flinch. In her nightmares, everything was freezing and cold and she needed the opposite, the burning heat, to escape her fears.

_"… She got out, banging her fists and kicking with her feet until the window cracked (there was no water pressure as the car had not completely submerged). She swam to the surface. Her hands where cut and bleeding from hitting the glass, though she attempted to submerge into the icy depths once more, she had to help her parents…"_

Her long brown hair clung to her back as the tears flowed down her cheeks. People, who knew what had happened to her and the Aether, thought that memory was her worst, her worst fear, but it was not. What happened to her and her parents was.

_"… She could not enter the car again, as it had sunk beyond her reach. Ambulances and heavy machinery arrived at the site of the crash. The bridge was closed down as the heavy machinery removed the car from the water. When the doctors bandaged her hands, they removed her parents from their destroyed vehicle. They left after wards, leaving her with Doctor Eric Selvig; he was father's closest friend and would later become her legal guardian. He held her back, held her upright, as she cried and cried. He told her it was going to be alright, though they both knew that it never really would be…"_

The water burned her skin. It was so hot, that it made her feel numb.

He opened his eyes and got out of bed. He blinked a few times to regain his full consciousness, before making his way to the bathroom. He took the towel off of the door handle that lead to the bedroom with him as he gently opened the door to the bathroom. The door clicked softly behind him as the steam was rising from behind the shower curtains, clinging to the glass on the mirror and the window. There was a slight shift in the shower, she had heard him. Silently, he crouched down by the shower and slipped a pale hand behind the periwinkle curtains. His hand felt nothing for a long period of time except for the boiling drops of water, but then that changed. Fingers, warm and thin, gently touched his. Their hands entwined and he gave a sad smile. He gave her hand a squeeze and there was more shifting heard behind the shower curtain, before the water was turned off.

Her hand felt its way up his arm, until it lay trembling on his shoulder. The curtains were yanked aside and she flung her body around his. He enveloped her in his arms, holding her close, one hand holding her back, the other softly stroking her wet hair. Her sobs were real, hard to the point where her body shook, but they were also quiet. She buried her face into his shoulder, digging her nails into his back.

The rain was falling down harder outside, as she pulled away, wiping her puffy eyes. He wrapped her up in the towel, the way a parent would a child when they exited the bath, and carried her bridal-style back to the room. He sat her down gently, and went to retrieve her clothes.

That was how it went on the difficult nights. She would have her depressive days and then have a night or two of remembering her past, and he was there for her. Thor, his brother as loving as he had been, did not understand how to deal with her trauma. Thor had his own scars, his own pains, but they had been physical and _not_ emotional. And because he had not experienced what she had, he could not understand how to help her and this had lead to their break up.

He had his physical scars due to Kurse stabbing him in the chest and she had hers on her hands from smashing the glass in her car accident. He had emotional scars due to the fact that his whole life had been a lie and she had her nightmares about her parent's death. In that twisted and sad way, they understood better than anyone else ever could.

Alone, they were experts of feeling pain, having done it several times, but needed some help from the other when it came to handling it.

In the mean time, he had retrieved her clothes from the bathroom, opening the window to let the steam leave and closing the door and light behind him. She did not accept her clothes, instead she pushed them aside and kissed him. She kissed him to thank him.

No words were said, but he did not need words to show him her emotions, for he could taste them on her tongue and feel them on her skin - pain and strength, sadness and happiness, sorrow and guilt, but most of all, love.

He removed his clothing and they stumbled into the bed, letting the silver sheets envelop them. They made love under the magical sky on the ceiling. When it was done, when it was over, when the silvery sheets were a crumpled heap underneath them and her head found his chest and leaned against it the first words were said that night. They belonged to her;

"I love you, Loki."

The words were whispered against his pale skin, as his stroked the moist brown curls that cascaded down her back. He closed his eyes as she spoke, he was not resting, but taking in her words. Treasuring them and holding them close.

The image above their heads showed the constellations of both realms and something special as well. The dark times (hence the murky greens, shimmering violets and dark blues) and light times (hence the bright yellows, vivid oranges, strong pinks and ruby reds) - the bad times and the good – of a relationship. It represented all things one would do; one would go through, to be with the one person who completed them.

He found his voice before they fell asleep:

"I love you too, Jane. I always will."


End file.
